


An Isolated Man (And the boy with nothing to lose)

by maccabird_23



Category: Legend (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy played the moments that lead up to him being in this car over and over again in his head. Why hadn’t he run when he’d felt Reggie backing him up against the wall? Why had he walked down that alley to begin with? Why had he been pestering the form instead of a member from some other lowly gang?  Why hadn’t he just been satisfied with finding shelter for the night, instead of going out, and looking for trouble?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Isolated Man (And the boy with nothing to lose)

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading: The Profession of Violence: The Rise and Fall of the Kray Twins by about a month ago, and was led to believe that this was the book the movie was based on -- but what I’ve read about the movie they seem quite different.
> 
> Not that it’s a bad thing that the movie was different (it sounds enjoyable) -- the book was distinctly was a male perspective, and there were things that I found interesting that came from that perspective. One thing in particular that was interesting from that perspective was the idea of the isolated criminal. 
> 
> In the book, both Ronnie Kray and Frank Mitchell are both somewhat psychotic gangsters that have a tendency towards violence and the cruelest part of human nature. They are both escaped convicts and in the book it mentions that member of the Form was weary.  
> They watched are they become more violent and agitated when isolated and left alone for a long time. (Being escaped convicts they both had to be stashed away.) They were like caged beast, and other members didn’t want to see what happened if they became any more manic.
> 
> So what did they do? -- They literally gave them people that would ‘calm the beast.’ In a way.
> 
> For Ronnie, they would bring male prostitutes down to the farm where they had stashed him. For Frank Mitchel “The Mad Axeman,” they brought him a young woman who was waitressing at one of the bars they circuited.
> 
> I really don’t think anyone could have been braver than that waitress. Imagine having these gangsters coming to you, offering you money to stay days at a time with this notoriously crazy, escaped convict. To sleep with him, and comfort him, and deal with his every psychotic turn like a lion tamer. She survived to tell the tale.
> 
> I was playing around with this idea in my head. In the book, they mentioned how Ronnie would beg each boy to stay with him at the ending of each weekend when Reggie was about to take them back into the city. 
> 
> Then I was thinking about Teddy Smith --

 

 

Teddy wasn’t part of any gang or crew -- too crazy by far or at least that’s what they told him when he asked for work. Told them he was good with a knife, chain, gun, and especially good at cleaning up blood. 

He’d seen those janitors do it at the mental hospital during his brief stay. After one of the patients would get their hands on something sharp it would always wind up impaled into their own body or someone else’s. Head wounds bled the most but neck wounds sprayed the farthest. The janitors always had their work cut out for them, in more ways than one. 

But after he’d asked, said he’d do pretty much anything to get with one of the local crews they’d just laugh at him. Blow smoke in his face and ask him why they should trust him with any weapon or assignment. He’d be quicker to stab them than actually do the job, and they weren’t giving him the weapon he’d use to turn on them.

He’d usually shrug, he couldn’t fault them -- he wasn’t really the most sound of mind, and he didn’t really see why he should control those dark outbursts. They’d kept him alive so far. 

But sometimes the pricks wouldn’t stop there. Sometimes they’d wrap grimy fingers around his neck, fingertips pressed to the knob of his skull. His hackles would raise, and he’d bare his teeth as they whispered, “But you’re pretty enough if you really want our protection. There’s always enough perverts in the world that like a boy’s arse. We could turn you out for a fair dime.” 

 He knew he couldn’t punch anyone who was affiliated with any groups, they were protected boys, and he wasn’t. If they really wanted they could just take him, place him where they wanted. Some dark basement where no one could hear him scream, chained and then they could send men to him. Bad men, like the ones in his dreams, with the large hands. 

So he just stepped back, smile bitten into his face as he walked into a near dark alley. The bastard could probably have his head if he wanted, but alone, in a dark alley with a desperate boy, freshly released from the mental hospital -- he’d probably think twice before following. 

But, of course, there were scarier things that lived in the dark than Teddy. A Kray -- either brother was worst than any monster that Teddy could make up in his head. 

That’s just who happened to be behind him when he hit something solid. Someone too solid to be his imagination. Hard chest, and pressed suit. Some part of his brain knew it had to be Reggie Kray before his eyes even saw him.

A boxer’s body over a fancy Frank Sinatra suit. It had to be Reggie because Ronnie wore glassed, and anyway he was in prison -- in the mental ward. Or if the rumors were true he was freshly escaped, crawling the streets of London after midnight -- ready to terrorize the dreams of all the good little boys and girls who locked their windows -- hoping not to get nighttime visit from Ronnie Kray. 

“You going anywhere special, Teddy?” Reggie asked between puffs. Teddy wet his lip; he hadn’t had a cigarette in days. He barely flinched at the knowledge that Kray knew his name. The Krays knew everyone -- they were like Santa like that. 

“Just seeing if anyone had any work for me. You know before they sent me up to the mental hospital I made quite a name for myself.” He used to roll Johns. Anyone who was too dumb or too posh not to know that picking up the likes of Teddy Smith would learn their lesson in spades. 

He’d never kill them, just beat them until they passed out and took their money. Some of them had been big blokes, twice the size of Teddy, but he never let that deter him. A man was at his weakest when he had his dick out.

“Had any good offers?” Reggie didn’t seem to be in a hurry, slowly backing Teddy against the wall, blocking his exit from the alley with his broad shoulders. The only light in that darkened, narrow space was the light coming from Reggie’s cigarette. A constant flickering of light that distorted Reggie’s face. Teddy felt his pulse rise.

“No formal ones but a man from your form just offered to whore me out.” Teddy watched a grimace make its way to Reggie’s face, almost like such disgusting words, such sordid businesses, as male whores were too good for his ears. Which mustn’t be true if the rumors were to be believed.

“I’ll deal with that later, but right now I’ve got a deal you might find… agreeable.” Reggie leaned into his space until they were sharing air, Teddy breathing in Reggie’s carbon dioxide, his exhaust. “You can earn a place in our form. Not on your back or knees, but doing some honest work. Burglaries, strong arming, and the like, but you got to prove yourself.”

“How do you want me to go about that, then?” Teddy could feel something cold creeping along his spine, maybe a gut feeling that something was off, but he couldn’t turn away a Kray. No one in their right mind would. 

Reggie sucked in air through his teeth, eyes wandering Teddy’s face before turning out a grin, half charming, half crazed. “Can’t really tell you until we get there. It’s part of the deal. You come with a couple of my guys and me, and once we get there I’ll tell you everything.”

Teddy felt his gut churn at the prospect. It was nearing two in the morning, and Reggie wanted to get him in a car with other gangsters. Drive him to God knows where, and all for a chance to be part of his form. “And where exactly is ‘there’?

“Don’t trust you yet…” Reggie shrugged, throwing the bud on the ground “and this is how you are going to earn my trust.” 

Teddy looked around the alley, knowing he didn’t have much to bargain with. Saying no to a Kray was close enough to a death sentence that even if Reggie planned on do something horrible to him rejecting him now would probably only make it worst.

“What the hell?” Teddy heard himself say, but he heard it from somewhere outside his own body, like he was already separating himself from his body. It was easier this way. “Lead the way, Mr. Kray.”

He was sandwiched inside the backseat of a beautiful Cadillac, two rough guys by the names of Chuck and Max on either side of him. Reggie was driving with another one of his men in the passenger, a real mean looking fucker by the name of Dickey. There was another car following behind them.

It was a quiet ride, and it didn’t take long before the lights of London gave way to the unindustrialized dirt roads of the country. And that’s where the car came to a stop, in the middle of a field with tall grasses, dark as pitch.

Teddy’s heart rate started to jump as the light inside the car turned on, and Reggie turned to him, dangling a soft looking cloth between his fingers. Teddy looked from Reggie’s face to the strap of cloth, once, twice, and then three times before he tried to bolt to his left.

Kneeing and elbowing his way over Chuck, he almost reached the car handle when the cool metal of a gun touched his temple. “Sit back down, Teddy. Where were you planning on going?” Reggie grunted as Chuck and Max wrestled him back into his seat. He was unresisting with the gun still pressed smoothly to his head.

Reggie pushed himself half into the back seat, tying the strip of black fabric around Teddy’s eyes, and he was thrown into darkness. Lips pressed to his ear, as he felt Reggie’s breath whisper against him. “This is all part of the test, kiddo. Now, be a good boy, and try not to get yourself shot.”

The car hitched forward a few moments later on wheels not meant for the dirt roads of the countryside. Teddy played the moments that lead up to him being in this car over and over again in his head. Why hadn’t he run when he’d felt Reggie backing him up against the wall? Why had he walked down that alley to begin with? Why had he been pestering the form instead of a member from some other lowly gang? Why hadn’t he just been satisfied with finding shelter for the night, instead of going out, and looking for trouble?

He was going to be a writer, that’s what he had planned. He remembered being a little boy, maybe aged twelve, showing his mum the stories he wrote on pieces of brown paper bags that were used to carry groceries.

She had glowed, reading it to herself then reading aloud after dinner before his father was too drunk to care. Then they use to pray. Pray to God that he would become a famous writer like George Orwell. Buy her a big house someday.

He wondered if he still knew how to pray. Thought to himself, that it’s a better time than any to try. “Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name.”

“What’s he doing back there, Max?” Reggie’s voice asked.

The edge of the gun faltered from the side of his head. “Fuck, sir. Sounds like he’s praying.” Teddy continued, voice quivering as he tried out the words. “He’s fucking shaking like a leaf.”

Teddy could feel the words vibrate from his chest, getting louder and echoing through the cramped space of the car. Fall was in the air, and the windows were all closed to keep out the bitter wind. “Just shut him up. I don’t need that shit right now.” He heard Reggie respond before a palm slapped across his mouth, and nose.

He didn’t let that deter him, screaming the words out through his chest as the fingers tightened around his jaw. He could barely breath as the last of the prayer escaped him. “Forever and ever.” Then everything went black.

Teddy woke with a jolt, as bodies moved around him. Car doors opened and closed. Trunks slammed shut with a thud in the distance. Car horns were blaring close to his ears, and yelps, and screams ensued. “Wake up you lazy piece of shit! Wake up!”

Teddy knew the command wasn’t directed at him, so stayed completely still, eyes open against the blindfold. Footsteps neared. “We’re the boys, Reg?” The voice was a rumble, coarse, but familiar.

“Couldn’t find any professionals tonight, Ronnie.” He felt the car tilt, like the two men, were leaning heavily against the door while they talked, so close that Teddy could hear Ronnie exhale. “They were all too weary. None of them liked the prospect of going to some no named area, and staying the entire weekend.”

“Then who’s that passed out in the back, there?” Teddy felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, knowing he was being watched, even pointed at. “He looks familiar.”

“No good, Ronnie.” Reggie whispered, and Teddy felt his breath hitch. “Thought I could get one of the street kids. Most of them are harmless enough. But this one – he started yelling nonsense in the car. Praying, and shaking like he was possessed.”

There was silence for a beat, and Teddy had to wonder what weird connection the twins had. It always seemed like they could communicate without saying a word. “What’s his name, Reg?”

“Teddy Smith.” Reggie said, and Ronnie grunted at his name. “Yeah, that little nut-job. Used to beat up his Johns, and steal their wallets. One time he even stole the guy’s car. Rolled his unconscious body right out of the front seat, and sped off.”

Ronnie swore to himself, and Teddy’s mind raced. Maybe he could make a break for it. They all thought he was still passed out. Just run out the other side, and… go where? They were in the middle of nowhere. The closest house probably being more than a mile away.

“They put him up in that mental hospital, didn’t they?” Ronnie asked, sounding more curious than scared, maybe even amused. “Tried to slit the throat of his step-dad. Cops found him in a mess of his own blood, and shit. They said he was drawing with it on the walls.”

It was true, and Teddy would to it again given the chance. His mum could never find the right type of man after his dad died. The last one had been particularly cruel, beating her anytime she would walk too loudly. Teddy had dealt with him. Too bad he had lived, at least he was out of his mum’s life for good.

“Guess they thought he was no longer a danger to society,” Reggie commented with a laugh. That’s when he felt the car door open. It must have shocked Reggie, too. “What the fuck are you doing, Ronnie?”

“Like you said, Reg. If our great country don’t think he’s no danger, then who am I to disagree?” Teddy felt hands grabbing at him, dragging him across the seat, and he froze, stiff as a board. He couldn’t handle one Kray brother, let alone both. “Anyway, you took all the sharp objects out of the caravan. Can barely cut my steaks with all those plastic knives. No way he can cut my throat with one of them.”

Then he felt himself being lifted into a pair of bulky arms, held tight against a broad chest. Ronnie fixed his limbs until he could carry Teddy bridal style. He moved swiftly, like Teddy’s 180 pounds of flesh were nothing against his own girth. He could hear Reggie protesting in the distance, but Ronnie didn’t answer.

He heard more than felt Ronnie walk up a few steps, and then the air around them changed. The cold wind gave way to stagnant air, and then he was being put down gently. A hand cupped the back of his head and slipped the blindfold off his eyes. He didn’t pretend to be asleep, as his eyes adjusted to the dim lights of the caravan. The face above him came into focus; Ronnie’s framed eyes big as they studied him. “You’ve been awake for a while.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Long enough,” Teddy answered, as he risked his own life and brought his hand up to cup Ronnie’s cheek. The bigger man didn’t flinch but raised an eyebrow, questioning. “I thought I was making a deal with your brother, but now I know.”

Ronnie leaned lower, breathing against Teddy’s mouth. The boy pushed himself up, balancing himself against the older man. “Now you know what?” This was a question, and Ronnie’s eyes watched his mouth for an answer.

“Now I know what brother I’m really making a deal with.” Teddy closed the gap between them, his heart pounding as his mouth met dry lips. It wasn’t unpleasant. Ronnie hadn’t shaved in a while, and the bristles on his face scraped gently against Teddy’s smooth cheeks.

Teddy had already gotten himself into more trouble than he could handle, but every move he made now -- letting his fingers tangle into the slick hair at the back of Ronnie skull, pressing his body hard to the other man’s – was the most dangerous thing he had ever done.

Ronnie yanked at the hair at the crown of his head until Teddy’s neck was bent at a weird angle, and he bit at the exposed flesh. “You better not be messing with me. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a boy.”

Teddy laughed, loud and obnoxious at the thought, and Ronnie growled. He’d have to have a death wish to turn back now. And anyway, the nightmare of a situation had just started getting good. “Not playing around, Ronnie. From what I see we’re both getting what we want out of this situation.”

Ronnie started unbuttoning his shirt, and he shivered as fresh air touched his skin. Ronnie’s warm mouth roamed his collarbone, as he mumbled against the flesh. “And what exactly do you want, Teddy?”

Teddy moaned at the contact as his fingers played with the exposed flesh between Ronnie’s shirt, and back muscles. He felt the hairs stand on edge at the cool contact, Ronnie’s body reacting to his touch. He laughed again at the question, mind whirling on endorphins, never settling. “I want everything.”


End file.
